


Cage

by bloodandcream



Series: Ship all the Ships [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe, Fight Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-23
Updated: 2014-07-23
Packaged: 2018-02-10 01:33:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2005950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodandcream/pseuds/bloodandcream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was normal there, the normal guy in normal clothes with a normal boring life that he’d always wanted but now that he had it he felt an itch in his bones for bad things. Luc filled him up with those, in the obscene hours between night and morning, drowned him in all things illicit. With tongue and teeth he tore Sam apart and exposed his bones. And Sam bared his neck for it. Eventually he bared his teeth too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cage

His name is Luc. Like Luke. But with a hard ‘c’. And no ‘e’. Just Luc.

He’s the epitome of bad boy, with his septum piercing, leather jacket, tattoo sleeves, spiked hair, motorcycle, and punk rock rebellion. Sam can try as hard he wants to think about just when he started to gravitate towards people like that. But it seems like it’s always been kind of that way.

Ruby is of course the archetype of the sort of fucked up relationships he keeps falling in to. She wrapped herself around his heart in a time of grief and a flood of shitty childhood memories when his father had died. She introduced him to drugs harder than marijuana, ecstasy and LSD and - just once - coke. With her pretty smile and her stubborn obstinacy, she could charm him into all sorts of things. She’d rake her nails down his back till he bled, writhing on his lap, and press his teeth to her breasts until he bit. She liked it when he bruised her, marking soft expanses of pale flesh with the imprint of his presence in her life.

He was so far gone on Ruby.

Before that, possibly the first, was Madison . She was everything he had wanted and still thought he could have when he was a teen, at least before he really knew her. Madison had seemed so sweet, and normal, there was a spark to her but she blended in well in the halls of high school. He found out later that she turned into something else at night, something wild and insatiable. She knew where to go to get alcohol underage, parties full of people older than them, eyeing her hungrily, music drowning out common sense and teenage rebellion pushing him along with her.

All the people he’s been with, they’ve opened up new things in him that he didn’t know he was capable of. Even for all the bad parts of it, it’s worth it, this getting to know himself. And Luc, he gives Sam violence, aggression, gives him release for that thrumming under his skin that’s always been there. Sam doesn’t like to think of himself as an aggressive guy, he spends most of his time trying to make himself smaller, less threatening to people. But it’s always kind of been there. Bubbling up, like paint blistering under the sun. A need to break things, a need to hurt. He doesn’t like it, but Luc does, and Luc knows just how to play to it.

Sam’s always tried to hide his predilection to violence under more productive pursuits. He runs for miles every morning. When he was a teen he’d pretend he was running away from his family, now he pretends he’s running away from himself. But the exertion and the use of his muscles like that is never as satisfying as fighting with Luc.

You might think he’d gotten enough of fighting, as a kid, as a teen. Mostly with his father but sometimes with his brother. He had hated it then, hated them. Sam still doesn’t really know what his father did to bring home food, why they were always moving around, what danger they were running from - or running towards. When he was really little, his imagination used to think that his father was an FBI agent, or a superhero. But when he started getting older, he started noticing things. Like fake credit cards, guns in the trunk, bruises under the hem of his father’s shirt when the man moved just so. Eventually he started to wonder, if his father was a bank robber, a mafia enforcer, a drug dealer. That’s when he started to fight.

Fighting with Luc, it almost feels like that. Feels somehow familiar. Something he’s used to. They exchange punches more than he did with his father. They usually fuck afterwards, gripping onto each others bruises and lacerations and making it hurt even more. Sam doesn’t really want to think about it, but it’s almost like seeking approval from a father figure, in the only fucked up way he knows how to relate to one.

That kind of makes it even funnier that he met Luc through his brother’s boyfriend Mike. He and his brother were dating brothers. If you could call what either of them had dating. Of course, Dean had fucked their sister Anna too. And the fling with Mike was short lived. He had then moved on to another one of the brothers, Cas. Dean had absolutely no room to judge Sam on whatever it was he got out of his relationship with Luc. Not with how he was fucking his way through their family.

Sam was still glad that his brother was around now, despite all the bickering and the overbearing protectiveness his brother had for him. Sam figured Dean had gotten over that when he had disappeared as Sam went to college. Sam still doesn’t know what happened to Dean in those years, what his brother did. It was probably tied up with their father and ten different kinds illegal. Sam didn’t want to know.

Course Dean came barreling back into his life and upending it in the uniquely flamboyant way that was purely Dean. Family drama. He thought he was over that. Apparently not. A barely passed college degree, several years, one dead father and the still smoking remains of his relationship with Ruby later and they were living together again. At least they had an apartment this time, instead of abandoned houses, motel rooms and the back seat of the car Dean still drove.

That was when the Shurley’s happened.

Their father reminded Sam too much of his, drunk and often absent. He’d met Chuck only once, and although he seemed kinda nice, although shy, the mess of his kids that had twisted themselves up in Sam and Dean’s life would indicate a different kind of story. Sam knew well enough that families could be a lot different out in the sun than from behind the curtains of their house.

Dean had fucked Anna, Sam remembers very clearly because he could hear them through the thin walls of their shitty apartment. Then his brother had moved on to Mike, and the guy seemed to be a more permanent fixture. One morning, after Mike had slept over, Sam woke up to see Luc outside his bedroom window, spray painting dicks on Mike’s rusty Honda Civic. Sam went out in his boxers and a tee, folding his arms over his chest and watching until Luc noticed him.

He had short sandy blond hair, spiked up with gel, wore eye liner, there were so many holes in his jeans Sam wondered how he found the right holes to put his feet through. There was something bright and alive in his eyes, when he smiled deviously and threw a can of spray paint at Sam. Sam caught it, considered it a moment. There were probably dark circles under his eyes cause he slept for shit last night listening to Dean and Mike vigorously fucking. So he shook up the can and started spray painting dicks.

That was how they met.

They had always been dysfunctional, but it wasn’t so destructive at first. Luc was something exciting, somehow achingly familiar, something he shouldn’t have and shouldn’t want but really, really did. Sam had a boring nine to five clerical job, standard issue, barely above minimum wage. Even with an Econ BA, it was the best he had managed in the shitty economy, and had been grateful for it. He was normal there, the normal guy in normal clothes with a normal boring life that he’d always wanted but now that he had it he felt an itch in his bones for bad things. Luc filled him up with those, in the obscene hours between night and morning, drowned him in all things illicit. With tongue and teeth he tore Sam apart and exposed his bones. And Sam bared his neck for it. Eventually he bared his teeth too.

They broke a lot of dishes and liquor bottles when they were trying to break each other. Luc’s apartment was a dangerous place to go barefoot. The walls were scuffed and stained, the carpet was torn, the furniture was duct taped together. Sam still spent increasingly more time there than in his own apartment with Dean. He stayed for the weekends, came after dark on work nights, burrowed down into Luc’s life and got tangled up in him. He could tell as it was happening, like slowly sinking in quick sand, that he was starting to lose perspective on the world outside. Outside them, outside the circle of their limbs as they fought and fucked and fed that destructive aggression inside each other that swelled and raged.

Luc liked to show off his damage. It fit with his image anyway. He’d wear band tshirts with the sleeves ripped off, one time showing off the gash down his forearm from when Sam had shoved him, and he toppled over backwards, tripped on the coffee table, landing among the shards of a ceramic cup that had just been thrown against the wall and scattered broken across the floor. Sam always remembered the minutia of their fights, fingers twisting in shirts, teeth sharp on his shoulder, shoved face first against a wall, the heat of Luc’s cock pressed against his ass. But he never remembered how the fighting started.

Sam covered up his damage. Bruises around his wrists, circles of teeth marks on his bicep, the brand on his flank. He covered up under button downs and slacks and kept on at his normal job while he came home to Luc and the easy violence. The brand was something he hadn’t seen coming at all. He couldn’t remember how the fight started, it was nothing unusual. At some point Luc had him bent over the kitchen table and managed to tie his wrists down to the legs of the table. Sam figured he was just in for a brutal fucking, and his cock twitched happily enough. But Luc left him there, rummaging around in the apartment, and it made Sam nervous.

Craning his neck to the side he saw as Luc came in with a wire hanger, untwisting it’s hook, bending the end into a crude three pronged pitchfork and pulling the rest of the hanger out straight. Turning the stove on high he held the metal over the flame, turning it, humming, watching Sam watching him. It hurt like a bitch, but all the thrumming ache of insistence that had been churning in him dissipated in the burst of pain that lashed out through his body. Luc smacked it purposefully while he fucked Sam raw on the kitchen table, and he came harder than he had in months.

It felt like being claimed. Sam wondered if the scar would ever go away, if he’d ever want it to. It faded from an angry red scab to raised pink lines, and if it ever faded to silver and disappeared he’d still be able to trace exactly where it was from how many times he ran his fingers over it masturbating in the shower.

Every now and then Sam gets worried. It happens during those times when it seems like Luc’s inside his head, controlling the reins, making Sam do things he wants to vomit over later when he remembers, when he feels like himself again. Like the threeway they’d had with that pretty wide eyed girl. She came willingly at first, seemed to bask in the attention. But when her back was covered in a mess of raised welts and her body wouldn’t stop trembling, Sam probably should have stopped. She might have said no but it’s hard to say anything when someone’s got a cock shoved down your throat. He should have stopped. He doesn’t know who he is anymore sometimes, when Luc gets under his skin, get in his blood. He gets scared, not even so much of Luc, but of himself, of the things he’s capable of.

Sometimes it feels like he’s in a cage and he couldn’t get out if he wanted to, and that makes him panic. Sometimes he feels like he’s on a leash and it’s strangling him, but he doesn’t want Luc to let go of his end. Sam’s not stupid, he knows what abuse is. He’s painfully self aware. He knows it’s a mental block, that he’s made himself dependant on some sort of something that Luc gives him, that he can’t quite put his finger on but knows that he could never get anywhere else. It’s abuse, both ways, dysfunctional and unsafe. Under the fear, the self loathing, the damage, there’s arousal and need. Oddly enough, Sam even has a measure of affection for Luc, for the quiet moments after a fight, for the reverent way he touches Sam’s bruises and kisses swollen lips.

It’s so so bad for him, rots him from the inside out and he doesn’t want to give it up. Because the confines of this fucked up thing he has with Luc - despite feeling trapped by it sometimes - sometimes it feels like it keeps the world out. And it’s a big, scary world out there. There’s all kinds of monsters that wear the faces of men. At least he knows the monster that he shares his cage with.


End file.
